The Masks We Wear
by Mz Valkyrie
Summary: Slade and Oliver reconciled, Alpha and Omega forgiving one another, but all is not well for the Bonded couple. Slade's attempts to court Oliver's heart was only the beginning. But the pasts they've both tried to escape, the people they've been, may just be the end of it. The past has a nasty habit of not staying buried. SEQUEL to Reap What You Sow. Slade/Oliver. Omegaverse. Mpreg
1. Normality

**Author Notes: **And… we're back!

Here's the sequel/part II of _Reap What You Sow_. If you're not familiar with the former, this probably won't make a lot of sense and I'd recommend reading that first.

For timeline purposes, although some things have changed, this is set after _Three Ghosts_ (2.09) but before the events of _Blast Radius_ (2.10), so the mid-season 2 finale.

This fic will have the Mpreg, I promise, but that also means Oliver and Slade get to bang again.

xxxxxxxx

**Chapter 1: Normality**

Oliver had been waiting for this day for a long time, he'd found. Maybe not for as long as some other things but it had been in the back of his mind ever since he'd last seen Slade. He knew it would have to happen eventually, there was no point in avoiding it really, though only when that fateful day finally came did the realization dawn so strongly on Oliver.

It was Friday evening, which meant the weekend away from running his father's company, and the Omega had redressed from work clothes for the occasion as such. The black V-Neck and nice dress pants had been easy enough to select out though Oliver had paid attention when reapplying his Beta cologne this afternoon to not so thoroughly douse himself in it like usual.

The foundry beneath Verdant was empty, free from its usual chatter and his two partners' presences. No major trouble had surfaced on the streets as of late so Oliver had been unceremonious in demanding the place to himself for the evening. The Arrow and the people of Starling City could wait for one night. Thea wasn't due to be upstairs in the club for another half an hour, and so Oliver was utterly alone.

Everything was shaping up perfectly.

Because today was the day, Oliver Queen had a date. His enigmatic first date with one charming Alpha, Slade Wilson.

It hadn't even been that long since they'd last talked or even texted and yet the wait felt agonizingly long. Minutes ticking by and Oliver just twiddling his thumbs.

Yeah, that's right, that's what he would do.

Fumbling for his phone in his front pocket, Oliver exits out of his several dozen text messages between him and Slade.

There had been more non-verbal communication between them in just the past two weeks than anything else. It wasn't quite as intimidating as actually having to talk to one another, though the latter was the Omega's preferred approach when he needed to get the point across to the Alpha about things.

Calling the man, Oliver could feel his insides tense up.

Slade picks up almost immediately after the phone starts dialling and Oliver wastes no time in running his mouth to him.

"Where are you? It's five-thirty and I'm at Verdant."

Slade laughs, deep and husky across the line.

"Eager, are we?"

Oliver might have been but it wasn't like he was going to admit it to the Alpha, twisting one hand in his lap.

"You were supposed to be here by now. My sister will be coming in for work soon. I've managed to convince my friends to let me have the place to myself and that they won't be meeting you today."

The latter felt good to say, even if it had been a little difficult to arrange. Knowing he'd told Diggle and Felicity _mostly_ the truth about what was going on between him and the Alpha. The mysterious Alpha that had 'allegedly' kidnapped him for a whole night, was behind the whole Mirakuru serum situation, and—damn it was just an all-round hard thing to translate to anyone else.

After several long weeks of not knowing how to really explain the situation—not even knowing what was going on between him and Slade himself—he'd actually managed to do it though.

The Alpha makes an indecipherable noise in the background.

"So you told them about _us_?" Slade asks, though it's more of a strained request for information, "How'd they take it?"

"I told them the other day, though I wasn't sure how to bring it up to you by text. So they've had a bit more time to get used to that fact that I'm seeing an Alpha, but… about as well as expected."

Oliver almost groans, just remembering the awkward conversation that had ensued as the Omega unveiled pieces of information that he had previously been very withholding about. Usually, unless things related to his past became relevant—like the Mirakuru showing up in Starling City—Oliver would never think to speak about what happened to him during those five years away from hospitable civilization.

"Well, you may as well tell them I'm not going away very easily either. Or better yet, let me do it, whenever I get the liberty of being introduced. Why not today anyway? Don't trust me to behave around your little crime-fighting team?"

"Just get your ass here, Slade," Oliver groans, "I don't want to have to worry about introducing you to anyone else at the moment."

Oliver gets to his feet, going back to pacing again as he grows slightly unsure of himself. The quicker Slade got here and they could get away from here, the less chance they had of having any unsightly run-ins with anyone Oliver might have to explain Slade's presence to. Which was still absolutely everyone in Oliver's life as he was sure Diggle and Felicity, albeit not outright condemning, weren't very accepting of his and Slade's strange relationship either.

"Anyone else?" Slade snorts, "Who have I had the liberty—no, the honour—of being introduced to, because it seems like I can't do anything by way of you without first getting your permission."

Slade's tone was more jovial than outright annoyed yet Oliver couldn't help roll his eyes even if the other couldn't see him.

"And whose fault is that?"

The Alpha growls back at him, possibly in what's supposed to be a show of dominance that an Omega would usually yield to, but Oliver doesn't think so.

"You can't keep me out of your life, Oliver," Slade says, once Oliver imagines the Alpha realizes he won't cower before him.

"Despite how much you totally have a right to… but you passed up that option in favour of keeping me around. So shut up and let me attempt to clean up my mess, kid."

Oliver doesn't even bother to get angry about Slade's usage of his seemingly 'beloved pet name' on him.

"Then just hurry up and get here then before you give me any more trouble," Oliver urges.

Partially because of his aforementioned stated reasons but also because of his inborn desire to just see the man. Which was probably just the Bond talking—strained as it was over his and Slade's continued distance from one another—as Slade was also an annoying, stupid Alpha that Oliver didn't want to bother with the rest of the time.

"Alright, alright, don't get a knot in your panties. Unless you want me to put one there, which can also be arranged—"

"Slade!" Oliver berates, "You better be here like right now."

Immediately thankful no one else was around to hear his shrill yell of the Alpha's name, Oliver has to wonder what the _hell_ Slade is thinking. The Alpha knew just how to push his buttons and it made butterflies dance in his stomach thinking that they were supposed to be going out—together—in just a few minutes.

Oliver would jump willingly into a fight with super soldiers in his sleep, for the right cause, and yet the prospect of a date with Slade seemed wholesomely more nerve-wracking than possibly any of Oliver's Arrow related activities.

"I'll have you know it's only five-thirty-two, Oliver," Slade says matter-of-factly so, "Don't act like it's any later. Only two minutes after our scheduled 'date' time. Whatever, you can whinge to me about it all in a moment. I'm outside now."

With that, Slade hangs up and Oliver can hear the noise from outside like an engine dying, without the older man's voice in his ear. Oliver nearly jumps out of his skin, halting in his brisk pacing.

_Oh shit_, he didn't actually expect Slade to get here so suddenly, despite the fact that he'd obviously been on the phone to the man pushing him to get here.

Turning around on his heel, Oliver attempts to quickly compose himself. Phone back in his pocket; control his facial expressions from going all over the place which were clearly displaying his rapidly changing emotions. Why, why, did he agree to this date? What was he supposed to do around—

"Hey," comes from behind him, shattering Oliver's mental train of though.

He hadn't even heard Slade come in, open the door—

—_Turn around you idiot_, Oliver's higher reasoning scolds him.

Oliver stops thinking, forcing himself to turn around and face Slade. Which in turn causes him to nearly trip over backwards at how close the Alpha was, up in his face.

Oliver could feel himself tilt backwards.

An arm darting out from beside him, Slade grabs Oliver by the forearm before he can fall over his own feet.

Free palm brushing up over the Alpha's hand steadying him, Oliver allows Slade to stay there, without pushing him away, as Oliver grows steady on his feet again.

"Ummm, hey," is the only thing Oliver can think to respond with.

Despite Slade still being so close to him, their faces barely inches apart, Oliver was feeling less like he would fall over now and more like he was rooted to the spot. Slade pulling his hand back away from him, when they both seemed certain Oliver wasn't going to fall over again anytime soon, Oliver allows himself to fully meet Slade's gaze.

Slade looked… different. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch for one, is the first thing the Omega notes, blinking back at both the Alpha's eyes, slightly dumbfounded. There were… different things about him though. Oliver could only ascribe it to Slade looking less harsh around the edges, as right now he wasn't paying too much attention to the more intrinsic details.

It was comforting to see Slade with… both eyes yet Oliver doesn't look at the Alpha too much, uneasy.

Alpha running a hand through the back of his hair, Slade takes a step back from him possibly realizing how Oliver utterly didn't know how to respond to the situation.

"You're not going to be quiet on me all night, now are you?" Slade asks, humour in his voice but also sounding slightly concerned.

Mentally shaking himself, Oliver forces himself to look at Slade with an expression other than what he imagines to be his current stupid one.

"No, I'm fine," Oliver responds with, straightening himself out and bringing his arms back down to rest comfortably at his sides.

Damn Slade, just had to sneak up on him and get him all the more flustered than he already was.

Slade smiles, though it was hard to tell if it reached his dark eyes. Seeing Slade without his eyepatch on had quickly stopped being weird for Oliver though.

"I see, you're wearing less Beta shit than usual," Slade comments coyly, head tilting to one side.

Remaining where he was in an attempt to look more composed, Oliver couldn't help wonder when Slade had noticed.

"Yeah well I ran out down here," Oliver says, willing his voice to sound convincing, "And I was waiting for you to get here so I couldn't exactly go anywhere."

Oliver starts moving forward, causing Slade to shift out of his path, as he walked past the man. Not before he gave the man a quick look up and down though. Slade looked somewhat different to him without the vest, katana and guns all strapped to his body that he had worn practically every day on the island.

He looked mildly less predatory dressed down—up really—in a pair of slacks and a maroon dress shirt though Oliver couldn't help but feel that was Slade's intention. Oliver didn't like having his back to the Alpha either, but he also was sure that he'd just told a very unconvincing lie. There was no way Oliver would let himself be caught out without the scent neutralizer, Beta sprays, or god forbid his suppressants.

"Well, thank you for considering me at least," Slade says, seemingly materializing at his side.

Oliver shakes his head at Slade sincerely meeting his eyes.

"I didn't," Oliver affirms.

Not sure what the Alpha was getting at but not really sure of himself all the same.

Slade maintains their distance of being a little closer in Oliver's space than the Omega would have initially allowed the man to be, even as Oliver's edging for the door, in an awkward attempt to get them out of Verdant. The Alpha's attempts to be close to him were weird, and Oliver not sure how to deal with them, when Slade wasn't there to threaten him with violence or beat his ass into the ground.

Or at least, Oliver didn't think Slade was.

"Well, what are we still doing here? You're the one supposed to be taking _me_ out," Oliver snaps, sensing the Alpha beside him but also not really doing anything.

"We've wasted enough time here. As it is, you already took long enough to just get here."

Slade chuckles, but obviously sees through Oliver's excuses as an attempt to push them out the door.

"Alright, right this way then."

Alpha opening the door and waiting for the Omega, Oliver briskly ducks outside and past the man.

The air outside Verdant was fresh, making Oliver immediately doubt his decision to dress according to not only what he felt comfortable in, but also what he thought Slade would like.

Mostly black seemed the best way to go in an attempt to ape old times. In spite of Oliver practically lecturing Slade that they shouldn't fall back on the way things had turned out between them in shaping their _potential_ future, that didn't mean he hadn't not worn a lot of dark colours and camouflage around the older man though.

Maybe he should have brought a jacket as well, Oliver thinks feeling the cool air bite into his bare forearms. But he also had no idea where Slade was taking him either.

Oliver refrains from groaning when it's over to the Alpha's stupid, pompous car, parked in the alleyway beside the club. Somehow Oliver had hoped that Slade would take them somewhere just walking distance from here, but that also would mean they ran more risk of being publicly seen together. Something the Omega was not sure he was ready for.

So he'd put up with Slade's Lamborghini for now.

"I hate your car," Oliver states, not content to hide it from the man.

Practically dragging himself over to the thing from where the Omega thought they would be walking in the opposite direction, Oliver flops onto the side of the passenger door.

The lights on the car flashed for a moment as the Alpha opened it from the other side.

"Don't worry," Slade starts, "you've been in it before."

Slade doesn't distinctly smirk at Oliver but the Omega can feel the man's want to in his voice.

Oliver's clambering for the door handle regardless, keen to be out of the still-Winter-but-heating-up January air. Lian Yu had ruined any chance Oliver had of being someone who 'liked' the cold.

"You're going to want to stand back a bit when you open it," Slade says, showing Oliver the car door opening upwards rather than outwards.

Oliver shakes his head yet refrains from giving Slade one of his 'not impressed' looks. It might have seemed like he was already giving the man a lot of cheek today but the Omega wasn't sure how he was otherwise supposed to act around Slade.

No dumb Bond was going to dictate or have an impact on his feelings.

Letting himself into Slade's car, Oliver pulls the door back down on himself quickly. Despite how uncomfortable the lack of room in the vehicle might have been—not all open space like a motorbike—the atmosphere inside it was still warm from the heating being on not so long ago. Oliver refrains from squirming in the leather seats, feeling how low-hanging the roof was above him, putting his seatbelt on.

That was the appeal of sports cars he presumed, their aerodynamic and compact appearance, but Oliver couldn't help think they got less practical the taller you were. Oliver had a noticeable few inches on Slade.

"I'm sure, I fully consented to being in _this_ before," Oliver comments.

Watching the Alpha settle himself into the driver's side where he seemed more at home than Oliver currently was. The car started without a key, engine low and humming.

"What? Would you rather I have carried you?" Slade somewhat mocks.

"I'm not sure I would have liked the struggle as I don't think you were going to stay unconscious for much longer than you did."

Oliver remembers, how unceremoniously he lost consciousness in the Glades all those nights ago—not liking the way the Alpha drew attention to it either in such a humoured manner.

"Drive," Oliver bites out.

xxxxxxxx

After several minutes of driving mostly in silence and some attempts at inane banter between them, Oliver still had no idea as to where Slade was taking him. It was back through the city at least—the opposite direction from the Glades—so that at least gave the Omega some peace of mind that Slade had some taste. He didn't find himself getting any more comfortable with how disgustingly _rich_ the Alpha's car was, yet maybe that was just him looking for black marks to hold to Slade's name after he'd extended his forgiveness to him.

He did however; find himself starting to relax around the older man. After being so uptight, anxious and excited all day for the occasion it only took about five minutes for that nervous energy of his to burn out around Slade.

Oliver knew it was only natural. That although fickle and incomplete, the Bond—his body—would release endorphins to placate him within a short while of being in Slade's presence. That was the… annoying aspect of being an Omega, even his goddamn dynamic was dictating to him now.

The less they were around each other, the stronger the hormonal and emotional changes would be. It was like the body could recognize when Bond-mates were away from each other for what it deemed 'too long', though wasn't governed by reason or equipped with the knowledge as to think why. That maybe Oliver had other shit to do and there were more intrinsic reasons for him to think to be uncomfortable around Slade other than 'he just was'.

Maybe he could up his suppressants dosage or change them all together. Neither sounded overly healthy yet maybe that would stop all these bullshit feelings of his. That wouldn't change the fact that Oliver had been the one to pull Slade into bed though and not the other way around. Nor that Slade's scent, musky and heavy, at such a close distance without a great buffer between them, sent shivers down Oliver's spine and—

"—I'm sorry," Oliver forces himself to say aloud, breaking himself away from his more _personal_ thoughts.

It was already sundown outside. Even with all of Starling City's lights and grandeur illuminating the scenery, Oliver found it hard to read Slade's eyes as they blended in with the dark. Maybe he shouldn't have let the silence stretch on between them for so long…

"Yes…?" Slade practically purred.

Alpha giving him a look out of the corner of his eyes whilst still focusing on the stretch of road ahead of them.

_Oh great_, now Slade was expecting more of an answer from him.

Oliver doesn't hide his squirms and uncomfortableness under Slade's ice-like gaze in an attempt to look remorseful.

"I'm sorry," Oliver exhales, apologizing again, "I was… being kind of a dick before. I just… just don't know how to act around you half the time."

Oliver couldn't help feel his explanation for his earlier actions was a bit lacking but at least he tried. _Now was that so hard_? For him to get off his high horse and just apologize?

Keeping his gaze met with Slade's narrow one, the Omega almost worried that the Alpha wasn't going to accept his—admittedly crappy—plea.

"Well, that makes the two of us then," Slade offers, diverting his attention from looking forward for a moment.

"Albeit you are very cute when attempting to be stroppy or sulking on me though."

Oliver feels himself slightly taken aback by Slade's words, shaking his head.

_Cute?_

"Stroppy? What does that mean?" Oliver asks, wanting to know the full extent of what the Alpha was implying about him.

It certainly wasn't a word synonymous with sulking the Omega knew. Yet Oliver did also flunk through most of his English classes.

"Stroppy," Slade says, waving a hand off the wheel as if trying to grasp how to explain the phrase.

"It's slang. When you're all grumpy and PHSing like the way you were before, you're stroppy."

"I am not stroppy," Oliver exclaims, settling back in his seat.

He'd show Slade 'stroppy' and 'sulking' if the Alpha so willed it. It sounded like another one of those weird… Australian or so terms of Slade's, as Oliver didn't think he had ever heard of it, even with all the multilingual knowledge he'd gained over the years.

"I didn't say you were," Slade laughs, "Just that when you are, it's quite fitting of you and adorable at the same time. Brings back old times—"

"—Alright," Oliver cuts off, seeing how pleased Slade was with himself at striking a nerve.

"You better tell me where you're taking me, like right now," Oliver follows up with, though without any real way to threaten on the matter.

He was already in the car and at the mercy of whatever the Alpha intended for them.

"You say that as if you're being held hostage," Slade coos, "And again with your stroppiness, have you really missed me that much?"

Oliver ignores the look Slade is giving him in favour of turning to look out the window. He and Slade were still playing the same seemingly 'game' with one another but a lack of disclosure would do that to you. It might have been childish, but it was a more comfortable scenario between them than the all too recent fighting and hatred.

"Well, you didn't exactly leave me with many options, now did you," Slade says, most of the jovial tone gone from his voice.

"Nothing too public, nothing too formal—I'm not taking you on a 'date date'—, nothing outdoors, nothing that will keep you out all night otherwise your friends will have my head," Slade recites as if reading from a book.

"Hmm, so you did remember everything I said?"

Oliver was mildly impressed with Slade's diligence, considering he'd only rattled off the 'terms and conditions' of their date the once over the phone. Which wasn't controlling of him, just that he and Slade could agree on a want to keep their relationship—or whatever it was—quiet.

For the moment at least, as Slade seemed sure to prove Diggle and Felicity's disapproving assumptions about him wrong and burst straight into the middle of Oliver's life at a moment's notice.

But for now, just a first not-a-date, first reencounter with one another when they were on good terms, was all Oliver had worries about on his immediate mind.

"Yes," Slade affirms, turning his head to fully face Oliver for a second.

The gesture was… strange as when the older man did it Oliver could pick out the differences in his face. The lack of tension and anger that coloured most of Slade's appearances with him in the past weeks. Slade kept his mask up well, and the Alpha having seen Oliver at his presumed worst—now and back on the island, when he was at his most vulnerable—might have allowed Slade an easier time dropping his own façade.

"I jumped through all your damn hoops," Slade apprehends, straightening up.

Oliver had to hope they were getting close to where ever they were going now as they were nearing the main happenings of the city. Even with all the peak hour traffic that was holding them up, the Omega decided not to question the Alpha's vagueness anymore on where he was dragging him to.

"You shaved," Oliver says, picking up on it and deciding to mention it now that they were over the silent treatment.

"I did…"

Slade's voice is low as if expecting a follow-up accusation from Oliver, running a hand over the stubble on his chin.

The beard and most of the hair on Slade's face had been stripped away.

Oliver had to wonder if the Alpha had done it the night before or started shaving it back once the Omega first caved to them going on a 'date'. The former seemed outrageous but Oliver did have to remind himself that every other male dynamic grew facial and body hair far quicker and better than the Omegas did.

It was amazing Oliver grew any stubble at all, considering the Omega felt he spent the beginning of his twenties practically baby-faced. If he shaved everything off today, he'd be worried about the slow rate in which his stubble would grow back at.

"For me?" Oliver couldn't help but poke fun at the Alpha.

Seeing how much Slade liked doing it to him.

Slade growls, deep and instinctual, hands tense around the wheel of the car and Oliver is slightly worried for a moment. The Alpha's gritted teeth swiftly turned into a somewhat uncharacteristic smirk however.

"Was the lack of so much Beta spray for me?" Slade coyly asks, eyes like the black sky boring into the Omega.

"Yes…" is all Oliver forces out between his teeth.

Not seeing the point in trying to hide it but also not wanting to give Slade the satisfaction that he'd caught him lying about it either.

Oliver couldn't avoid Slade's overt gaze.

"I guess we're even then," Slade smiles, "Though I do appreciate the gesture. You smell a lot… nicer without all the crappy masking and unnatural chemicals on you. You don't even have to wear it at all around me… if you don't want to."

Frowning at Slade's 'suggestion', Oliver was still somewhat amused to see the Alpha so strongly took notice of the change, but also couldn't help feel a little bit naked without so much Beta cologne on him. It was like he walked out of the house with his pyjamas still on or something else wrong. Especially when he felt that Slade was drawing attention to it. The Alpha seemed to enjoy it though, which gave Oliver a welcome sense of being appreciated.

"I wasn't too sure what to do about this though," Slade says when Oliver remains quiet.

Dragging a hand over the side of his temple, the Alpha highlights the grey growing up into his hair. There certainly wasn't too much of it, albeit it was a noticeable contrast with the rest of Slade's dark hair.

"I think it's fine."

"Not a word from you," Slade retorts, seeing the way Oliver was grinning.

"What? I think it looks good on you. Seeing as you're always calling me 'kid', maybe I should start calling you an old man," Oliver chuckles.

Slade just shakes his head, pulling them off the road and directing them into what looked like an underground parking lot.

Oliver stopped laughing however when he realized Slade was killing the car here. Twisting around in his seat, Oliver couldn't really tell where they were other than the fact that it was dim. He didn't exactly want to get out either—not that the Alpha hadn't locked the doors—turning on Slade.

"Ummm, what the hell is this?" Oliver wastes no time in voicing his disapproval.

The Omega didn't mean to consider himself upper-class or anything—the island certainly pulverized some humility into him—but he was still expecting a level of class and well… effort from Slade in letting him choose the location for their date. An underground car park, or anywhere in the dark really, just seemed like a makeshift place to have sex—and there was no way this car was going to allow for that kind of movement.

Not that Oliver was going to allow that either but Slade was _not_ setting a good standard at the moment. No matter how well he might have dressed and how nice he might have smelt.

"My place," Slade grins, opening his door.

Oliver could only groan, hastily following suit after the Alpha.

He should have figured as much.


	2. Revelations I

**Chapter 2: Revelations I**

"I know you have questions," is the first thing Slade says after guiding Oliver to a room.

The walk up through Slade's complex was a relatively short one, stairwells and elevators pushing the process along as Slade chaperoned Oliver along and the Omega followed in relative silence. It was clear to both of them the atmosphere had changed, and rapidly, with Slade's decision to bring the both of them back to 'his place.'

Throughout the swift journey, Oliver had twisted his head around constantly, trying to take in and examine the new area he was in whilst still getting dragged along by Slade. The last time he was here, Oliver hadn't really taken a chance to inspect the place. All the deep red walls, the closed doors and lack of open spaces bar bottle-necked corridors, the absence of any personal décor outside of the gold framed paintings, and the gnarled black statues sat upon pedestals.

It was weird… nothing about it really screamed Slade to him at all. Or at least the Slade Oliver thought he knew.

To top off the uneasiness inside Oliver, there were no other scents here either; the corridors Slade had pulled him through smelling predominantly sterile or of musky Alpha—the man's own scent. This, combined with what Oliver had seen and the silence lingering everywhere, told Oliver he and Slade were very much alone.

Now, Oliver lingers in the doorway to the medium-sized looking apartment Slade appears to have stopped at. Remaining vigilante, arms folded over his chest after Slade has pushed past him into the room. Not quite edging past the threshold of the doorframe but also not tracking back into the hallway they'd came from.

"What gave it away?" Oliver asks unenthusiastic.

Not making an attempt to move, Oliver leans on his shoulder, eyes constantly on Slade in between evaluating the scenery. Even if he might have mildly trusted the Alpha, Oliver still felt the need to keep his guard up in unfamiliar territory. A habitat that had been nailed into him in his years away from Starling City.

"You've been quiet since the moment I brought you here," Slade voices.

Oliver could immediately feel Slade's eyes on him, like daggers cutting him away from his thoughts and drawing his attention from the dark red walls he'd been focusing on. The Alpha's gaze meeting Oliver's over a granite kitchen benchtop, Oliver remains silent but takes a small stride forward past the doorframe .

He was getting itchy with Slade just watching him, the older man's brows and lips quirked upwards in a way that suggested Oliver couldn't win. He was never very good at being silent, only when his survival depended on it, and certainly not when he was around other people. Too used to being the life of the party, even when today it was mostly just him having to falsely socialize and smile intently at other businessmen.

After another moment of pained silence, Oliver weakens, realizing his silent treatment was childish at best, accusatory at worst, and all round backwards progress for them.

"I'm listening," Oliver says, keeping a sigh from his voice.

Lightly kicking the door closed behind him with a foot, Oliver drops his arms back by his side, mentally dragging himself over to Slade. Slade offers a slight smile, no teeth—so he looked less like a wolf closing in on a sheep, Oliver notices—as the Alpha scrapes knife and fork against one another over a sink.

Oliver stops by the rectangular bench framing the kitchen, not sure if he should sit down on a stool but also wanting to continually inspect the place. The apartment wasn't small enough that all of it, apart from a kitchen, dining and living area was readily visible but Oliver also wasn't convinced Slade had nothing to hide here either. Yet it would also be foolish of him to think Slade would hide his secrets just under their noses.

Maybe he was being hopeful, but Slade openly and without demand bringing Oliver back to his complex like this made the Omega think that this was possibly the time when the Alpha would explain everything and he wouldn't have to ask. Like _what happened to the Mirakuru he'd presumably been manufacturing, what happened with Cyrus Gold, what had he been doing all these years_?

There were so many questions Oliver wanted to ask the older man, even if that meant having to open himself up to Slade's own accusations, and the Omega had begun to wonder, shortly after getting here, if this was something other than a 'date'.

"Oi," Slade chastises as Oliver remains standing, "sit the fuck down."

There's not as much demand in Slade's tone as Oliver had come to expect from the Alpha but he complies anyway without a fuss.

Sitting down across from Slade, the Alpha drops his cutlery and rolls up the cufflinks on his sleeves. Over the bench, Oliver could see the tabletop was mostly bare, sets of cutlery sparkling clean on the side and the silver sink looking like it had never seen water. Oliver wondered if it always looked this way or if Slade had polished up the place just for him.

"From my experience, when you are quiet, there's a problem. And if you're not whining, it's diabolical," Slade grins, watching Oliver as the Alpha takes two glasses from an overhead cupboard on the wall.

Oliver shakes his head, not seeing the logic.

"For me to be whining how can I be quiet?"

"You find a way," Slade muses, gathering utensils and plates in front of them.

Oliver doesn't pay too much mind as to what Slade's doing, thoughts running away from him.

"I dunno what it is, if you're just too polite, too stubborn or even scared to ask me… whatever it is you're dwelling on."

Slade drops a skillet on the bench with a loud clang and Oliver wonders if it's on purpose as he snaps up to attention. The Alpha had accumulated a small multitude of steel and silver supplies now.

"Don't do that," Oliver reprimands, Slade jolting him from his thoughts as he tenses up in the shoulders.

"Well, stop being such a tight ass then and answer the question."

The Omega was sure he wasn't the only one being a tight ass around here but Slade swiftly turns his back on him flicking a burner on the stove. It gives him a chance to gather his thoughts without feeling overly anxious in Slade's crosshairs.

He knew he had questions, they both knew that, but Oliver wasn't quite sure how to ask any of them without feeling like he was slapping Slade's hospitality in the face. Slade bringing him back here, to the place he'd quite literally initially dragged him to against his free will… It had the unfortunate side effect of causing the same questions and accusations to resurface in his mind he had here last time.

Yet albeit without the same hostility to it.

"Maybe all of the above," Oliver concedes, agreeing with the Alpha's prior observations.

"I don't know how to ask you anything anymore, I think I'm worried you might actually respond. But then how do I trust what's coming out of your mouth is the truth?"

Sighing, Oliver feels a wave of relief wash over him at being able to speak his mind, though it didn't stop him from still feeling confused about his emotions.

A while ago he'd given up trying to question… whatever it was he felt for the Alpha but the nature of Slade being here in Starling City, the things he'd done and the things he'd potentially planned to do were worries in him that couldn't be buried so easily.

It was probably tied into his Arrow nature and protecting the city, he could almost never let things go on that front.

Slade doesn't even flinch at Oliver's half-accusation, placing the large pan on the stove. Turning back around to face the Omega, Slade simply smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Oliver leans back on his chair for a moment, concerned at Slade coming so close to him with an unreadable emotion on his face, but then the Alpha just flicks the faucet on the sink on.

"Y'know, I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think I'd be able to get some sort of reaction out of you," Slade offers, leaning over.

Cufflinks up around his elbows, Slade douses his hands in hot water before applying soap to them, washing up to around his wrists.

Slumping back forward, Oliver straightens up naturally again; certain Slade wasn't going to smack him or something.

Back on the island running his mouth had its punishments, like having to catch their dinner or an extra round of training. He doesn't know why but Oliver was almost sure he'd be more comfortable with that, if Slade was as predictable as he used to be. Not that the Alpha was ever predictable, just that Oliver once had a bit more of a rough idea what to expect from him.

Now Oliver wasn't sure what he knew about Slade anymore.

"You don't trust me."

It's not a question—Slade drops as he's drying his hands with a tea towel—but something they both knew for certain.

"Not on everything," Oliver admits, voice sombre and void of any defiance.

"Well, I intend to prove you wrong."

Slade's tone of voice didn't leave very much room for discussion and Oliver didn't follow up question the man as to 'how'. How he intended to garner the rest of Oliver's trust. Because even the Omega himself wasn't quite sure as to how that was possible. His trust these days was something that was hard to earn for anyone, not just Slade.

Alpha turning back to the other side of the kitchen where the stove and refrigerator was, Slade hangs the used tea towel over the wall oven and pulls another cloth off a small mound of something on the bench where Oliver can't see. When Slade moves to the fridge, Oliver's face drops upon seeing a large slab of meat on a plate.

"Are you… Are you cooking?" Oliver quickly asks.

Maybe he should have clicked to it sooner, all the cutlery and plates laid out, but Oliver's mind had pretty much given up on the idea of a 'nice date' ever since the Alpha had brought him here. Not that he would expect the Alpha to know of many of the upper-class areas in the city either. Nor would Oliver admit to perhaps mentally thinking of this outing of theirs as a 'date date' before he actually got here.

"I promise it won't be as bad as anything on the island," Slade assures, hearing the doubt in Oliver's voice.

Retrieving from the fridge a stick of butter, cooking oil and a container, Slade sets it all back on the bench. He also grabs a large cutting board from a cupboard underneath the tabletop, dropping it back on the granite with a large thump.

Oliver screws up his face watching Slade gather his ingredients, knowing this likely wasn't a joke. Memories of all the gamey rabbit and poultry Slade had fed him over the months came rushing back to him and the Omega wondered if this meal would be better or worse.

"I hope it's not a bird or anything," Oliver sighs.

The meat looked too big to have come from a bird but then what did Oliver know? It could have come from a turkey or something but it didn't look white enough to him either.

"It's not," Slade says, "I dunno how you like your meat either so you better tell me how I'm cooking it. There weren't too many options for cooking things back on the island, you just had to shut up and eat what you were given. But I've prepared accordingly now for your likely very picky palate."

Oliver raises an eyebrow, not quite having his concerns answered but also unsure as to what Slade meant by 'preparing accordingly' for him.

Slade tests the temperature of the pan heating up behind him, muttering something Oliver makes out as 'not ready'. Although the Omega wasn't really up for eating another one of Slade's dead rabbits again if he could help it, he would admit he was marginally hungry. He hadn't eaten since midday and had held off having dinner with his mother and sister as he would have expected to be eating when he was out with Slade.

It would have been around six now, lights from Starling City blown up like a Christmas tree outside coming in through large panelled windows to the left of them. Even with few lights turned on in the room it was still bright.

"I hope you didn't learn to cook on the island," Oliver eventually says, curiosity partially getting the better of him.

If from cooking on a fire, Slade had took that knowledge to cooking with an oven or a stove, Oliver would be worried about the meal he was expected to consume. At least maybe the food wouldn't be as burnt as it would be cooked over a fire…?

"As a matter of fact, I didn't," Slade explains, "I wouldn't consider myself great at it or anything. Some of your dishes here leave me a bit stumped as we don't have anything like it in Australia, but I can cook. It's more of a survival skill to me than just some pansy Omega field. Living on your own, if you can't cook basic meals, you're going to grow very sick and tired of takeout."

Nodding, Oliver realizes it makes sense, though he wondered how long Slade had been 'living on his own' for. If he hadn't learnt to cook on the island, that would be implying he knew how to cook before Lian Yu, and that would mean Slade presumably lived alone before that.

Noticing his momentary silence, Slade looks straight at Oliver.

"Before you go saying anything, you're hopeless at cooking," Slade points out, shaking his head, "And that's saying something coming from an Omega."

Oliver almost cringes at Slade's such open usage of his dynamic. Like it was something Oliver could simply forget about if none of his friends nor himself paid it any mind. Something he should be ashamed of.

"I can't say it's something I've ever indulged in it," Oliver admits, knowing Omegas were usually commonplace in hospitality fields.

Slade moves from around the bench, two sets of knives and forks in hand. Oliver watches him, the Alpha placing each set on opposite sides of a small wooden table. It was circular in shape; about the same size that you'd see in some restaurants, with a rich red cloth draped over it, the same colour as the walls.

"I would be surprised if you did," Slade says, continuing to set the table, "I never took you for much of a house-Omega."

Oliver isn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or insult, though it was nice to be something other than what his dynamic was often expected and stereotyped to be.

"Thanks," Oliver flatly returns.

"You better tell me how I'm cooking your meat as well. Pan will nearly be done heating shortly."

Returning to the kitchen, Slade moves the thick-bottom pan slightly over the burner, noticing it hasn't started smoking yet. Good, he didn't want that.

"What is it?" Oliver asks, shifting on his seat though compliant to go along with whatever Slade had planned.

"Sirloin," Slade offers, picking up the red meat off its plate and laying it on the chopping board.

It was bigger than the size of his hand.

"What?"

Looking dumbfounded for a moment, Oliver scowls when Slade cheekily grins at him.

"Steak cut from the rear of a cow."

Slade couldn't help feel the kid was sorely uneducated in some fields, but he supposes that's what you got growing up on the upper crust of society. Food all served to you on a silver platter and little need to learn how to cook or look after yourself properly when there were others around to do it for you.

Oliver rolls his eyes slightly in distaste.

So beef… Why couldn't the Alpha have just said that from the start?

"Are you going to answer any of my questions?" Oliver finally brings himself to ask.

Not demanding, just asking. If he and Slade weren't at least going to discuss the elephant in the room he at least hoped they'd acknowledge it. Slade even admitted it himself, bringing Oliver back here like it would get an intentional rise out of him.

"Are you going to eat your food?" Slade more bluntly puts back to him, sounding slightly irritated.

The two of them exchange gazes for a moment, Oliver squirming with his legs under the counter where Slade couldn't see them.

He didn't particularly want to ruin their night, Slade having done all the work here in taking him out, but he also had been holding off asking Slade anything until they saw each other in person again. Most of the topics of discussion weren't exactly things that could be talked about over text, or things he was comfortable letting his friends know about, it well within Felicity's ability to break into his phone if she really wanted to.

"Alright, I'll eat," Oliver yields, unsure what else to say.

"Good."

Pressing lightly on the silicon on the cutting board, Slade deems it about room temperature and ready for cooking.

"Please tell me you at least know how you liked your meat cooked?" Slade asks, keeping an eye on the stove.

If Oliver couldn't tell him how he liked his beef cooked then the Alpha would just be doing guess work here. The last thing Slade needed was a whinging Oliver on his hands.

"Just cook it medium-rare," Oliver confirms, leaning forward, one arm on the bench.

Noticing the salt, pepper, butter and cooking oil on the counter, Oliver decides to yield and just go with whatever Slade had in mind.

"Season it and flavour it however you usually would. I'm sure it can't be as bad as anything you've made me eat before."

Slade lightens up in the face, looking pleased with Oliver's compliance, pulling a strip of cooking paper between the meat and the wooden board.

Oliver thinks he'd possibly offer to help, like he was often made to, skinning and removing parts of their soon-to-be-meal on Lian Yu. It was like the Alpha said though, he wasn't the best at preparing meals, though Oliver would argue that most food you brought these days, the hard work of having to prepare it had already been done for you.

"Nothing serious until after dinner," Slade says, voice completely neutral.

Before he can go to douse the meat in cooking oil, Oliver cuts him off.

"Wait, so you'll answer my questions?" Oliver can't help but blurt out with.

"No…"

Oliver frowns but doesn't say anything, Slade's eyes on preparing the food in front of them.

"Not yet."

"When then?" Oliver presses.

Even if he sounded like an insistent child, and Slade could claim he was just the same as he was when they first met—the same kid—Oliver took Slade's answer as somewhat of a 'yes'.

So he pushed.

_I want answers._

"Later."

"So tonight?"

Slade pays Oliver no mind for a second, drizzling cooking oil over the cut of meat, not needing to chop any undesirable sinews off the beef as he'd already done that. The butcher he'd started getting his meat from had done most of the work, but he wanted to make sure he was serving the Omega the best food he possibly could.

The Omega was a picky, privileged bastard after all, not just in his taste of food, and Slade still had a ways to go in proving to Oliver he wasn't the villain the Omega might think he is.

Oliver pushing for the truth from him could potentially give way to good will between them, or it could backfire horribly and blow up in Slade's face, like most things seemed to do these days for him.

Knowing the Omega was still watching him, Slade formats a response in his head while lathering the golden oil into both sides of the meat.

"On condition," he says.

"What?" Oliver gapes, blinking.

"I'll answer all your questions, but only on condition," Slade confirms, looking Oliver directly in the eyes.

Dumping both salt and pepper onto the meat, Slade mops up the residual oil and condiments on the kitchen paper with the beef, trying to get as much available flavour into it.

"Alright. What's the condition then?"

Slade checks the stove again, noticing the heat emanating off of it—not smoking—when he throws his palm over the pan. Deeming the soon-to-be steak mostly seasoned, Slade picks it up gently by both ends and lays it down in the skillet. The pan instantly hisses and Slade pulls back to wash his hands again, not caring that he was possibly too close to the heat there and the average person may have burned themselves.

"For every question you get to ask me, I get to ask to ask you something," Slade says astute, swiftly going about cleaning up the small mess he'd made.

Oliver looks like he must be mulling it over head in his for a moment as the Omega lets out a heavy exhale before responding.

"Alright, but we both agree to elaborate."

Slade nods, before redirecting his attention to preparing their dinner.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver watched Slade cook, leaned over on the countertop methodically. Eventually the Alpha got round to offering him some wine from a bar across from the kitchen, which the Omega choose a full-bodied red to accompany their steak. From the first sip and the rich scent of the liquid, Oliver knew it had to be expensive. The wine was strong though, his tolerance for alcohol having severely dropped since his early twenties, so he'd lay off drinking too much of it as he still wanted to be sentient to question Slade later.

He was mildly impressed with the Alpha's taste, feeling treated and like this was somewhat of a proper date he'd have in mind had he been planning the evening. Now if only Slade's quality of food matched his quality of liquor, Oliver would have a content stomach for the rest of the evening.

The meat didn't take long to cook to medium-rare—which he was assuming was how the Alpha also liked his meat as Slade didn't separate the cut of steak before throwing it into the pan. Either that or the Alpha was just going along with his personal taste however Slade might have liked his steak done.

Slade had the meat in the pan for two-three minutes each side, turning it every sixty seconds or so with tongs, light steam erupting into the air. Nobs of butter, as well as crushed garlic and—what Oliver thought was—herbs from the container in the fridge went into the skillet as well. Slade appeared to brush the herbs and garlic over the meat, further seasoning it. Following it up with gathering the leftover melted butter in the pan on a spoon and pouring it over the now brown steak.

The two of them made small talk as Slade was finishing up, the Alpha explaining he'd left the meat out to come to room temperature shortly before he came to pick Oliver up. Slade said you didn't want the meat to be cold on the inside and hot on the outside when you cooked it.

The stove went off, large slab of meat set aside on a plate, as Slade cleaned up the kitchen. Replacing everything in its proper places and dropping the skillet and tongs in the sink where he gave them a hard scrub.

It was a relatively short process, one Oliver surprisingly enjoyed watching—the Alpha working.

Slade withdrew a knife from a block on the bench after about two minutes of setting the meat aside, cutting it into about a dozen finger-sized pieces.

The inside of the meat was still pink, so that made Oliver confident that Slade had at least cooked the meat right.

Leaving the steak on a single plate, juices all flowing down the side of it, the Alpha set the steak in the middle of the pre-set table, between two plates, cutlery and napkins. A slice of meat went onto each of their plates. The bottle of wine Oliver had been drinking and Slade sipping on in between working the pan went down on the table as well.

Slade washed his hands a last time in preparation for eating and Oliver politely got up, following suit.

The table they were eating at was just to the side and in front of the longue suite. TV and what looked like the hallway leading into the rest of the apartment ending up to the back of Oliver, the Omega realized as he possibly carelessly seated himself. He hadn't even thought to question whether the wine he was drinking and the food he was about to eat could possibly be drugged in his content mood either.

Yet it left Oliver with a warm feeling inside regardless as he and Slade began eating. Knowing from the way Slade dressed to the meal he cooked, the Alpha was trying to impress him, or at least garner his approval. Slade had kept that 'act' up ever since they'd last seen each other two weeks ago in his house so he was assuming Slade had to be genuine about it.

Just like this though… being around Slade right now, it was almost easy. Maybe that meant Oliver needed to drink more often, but that and going out every night as the Arrow sorely disagreed with one another.

He had no right to be outright condemning of Slade, despite what the Alpha may or may not have done.

xxxxxxxx

_I went looking for an angel and found the devil._


	3. Revelations II

**Chapter 3: Revelations II**

Oliver laughs in between putting his fork down and taking another sip of wine.

Maybe the wine was going straight to his head but it certainly complimented the intensity of the dish well. While he choose the type of liquor, the Alpha offered the particular bottle.

The Alpha was an alright cook, he'd give him that, the two of them eating mostly in silence, an easy quiet falling over them. The meat not too tender, not too soft, but not like he'd tell Slade that. This one meal definitely made up for some of Slade's worse ones.

"What's so funny?" Slade asks, looking up at Oliver whilst cutting a piece of meat.

The Omega supresses another half-cough, half-laugh, putting down his glass before he ended up accidently spitting in it.

Slade takes a bite of meat off his fork, watching Oliver for a response.

"Nothing," Oliver responds, leaning back into his chair, "I was just thinking that I hadn't thought to consider you possibly drugging the drinks or food before I started digging into it."

Slade shakes his head. The Alpha wasn't sure if he was supposed to take that as a joke or the Omega insinuating something about him.

"_That_ would be a waste of perfectly good food. Probably would make it taste like shit too."

"I'm sure you'd get away with eating it," Oliver adds.

Slade knows that's likely true, the Mirakuru usually filtering out any potential harmful substances he put into his body quickly.

Dropping his knife and fork on the cleaned plate, Slade collects the leftovers between them and gathers up Oliver's cutlery as well, Alpha getting up from the table. Not quite ready to wash up yet with Oliver still here, Slade leaves everything on the countertop, bare plates in the second empty sink, beside the full one, before returning to the table.

Oliver hadn't said much as to the quality of his cooking but Slade took that as a good thing. No feedback—a lack of complaining from Oliver—was good feedback.

"You watched me cook the food," Slade says, settling back into his chair, "I didn't have time to do anything to it other than what you saw. If I drugged the wine too, I would have had to have done every bottle over there as I had no idea what you were going to want."

Downing some of the liquor in his glass, Slade watches Oliver visibly appear to format a response to his logic behind his eyes.

"True."

"I hope that wasn't a serious accusation either. If I wanted to drug you or knock you out, there'd be plenty easier ways to do it then sweating on you eating some food."

Oliver and Slade both knew that to be true.

They were just sitting across from each other now, food eaten but the bottle of wine left about half-full on the table. Oliver knows this is probably his opportunity to try and get some answers out of Slade, the both of them in a good mood.

He almost didn't want to ruin the semi-enjoyable atmosphere between them though.

Oliver looks down at his glass for a moment, swirling the liquid around in it like it would give him the answers to his problems.

"Oi, you better not be completely shit-faced," Slade quips.

Putting his wine back on the table, Oliver straightens up facing the Alpha. Slade leans forward in his chair, elbows on the tablecloth whereas Oliver keeps his back straight in his chair.

"So…" Slade starts, trailing off.

It seemed as if Oliver wasn't the only one that didn't know what to say.

Slade had been somewhat anxious to talk to Oliver after they ate, despite rehearsing in his mind a lot of the questions he thought he might get asked and how he would answer them. Albeit he wasn't quite sure what the Omega's reaction to any of it would be.

Oliver thankfully fills the silence as Slade doesn't.

"It's been a while since we've actually talked like this," Oliver says, looking downcast and then out the window.

He wasn't as restless as he was before in Slade's presence but the Omega still equally felt like he was at a loss for words at times. It felt like so much had been riding on this moment, that when it actually came to getting to it, Oliver wasn't quite sure if he could do it. He didn't particularly feel like interrogating Slade at the moment.

Slade shifts in front of him, fingering the collar on his shirt, looking slightly taken aback.

_He smells good too._

"Back at your place doesn't count?"

Shaking his head, Oliver gives a no.

"What? So you're not immediately going to attack me either? Dinner is technically over now and I gave you my word we could talk after eating."

"Food was good," Oliver assures, "But yeah, I'm not going to."

_I don't want to prosecute you._

"All that prior hostility of yours today, all for nought," Slade snorts.

The Alpha makes a face like he's laughing at Oliver on the inside, yet their eyes never leave.

Oliver thought there really wasn't much else for them to do in this situation other than _talk_.

"I wasn't being hostile, just… unsure," Oliver admits, running a hand through the back of his hair.

"And I gave you the right to ask me whatever you liked too."

Slade sits back from the table, creating more distance between them, one elbow still on the cloth.

"You go first; ask me… whatever you want. It seems only right."

"What? So how does this work? Do I ask you something, you answer, and then you ask me something?"

"Yep."

"Oh okay."

Oliver thought it sounded more like they were going to play twenty questions with each other rather than have a serious discussion. He didn't know what he wanted to ask the older man either, so he went with starting off easy.

"How'd you know I was the Arrow?"

Slade's face immediately blooms into a cheeky smile.

"Because I'm not stupid."

Brows furrowed, Oliver frowns telling the Alpha his explanation wasn't good enough.

"Come on," Slade responds, throwing his hands out in a gesture.

"Prodigal son returns home after five years lost at sea, hooded vigilante with a bow starts running around shortly after. It wasn't all that hard to connect the dots."

A stone drops in the pit of Oliver's stomach. Slade made it sound so obvious, that he was the Vigilante and all his attempts to keep his identity a secret were for nothing.

Was that true? Was he really that transparent?

How many other people could have known then, about him? If a complete foreigner to the city like Slade could figure it out…

Doubt filled Oliver's mind as he fiddled with his fingers under the table.

Slade shoots him a dark but earnest gaze.

"I know what you're thinking. Are you really that easy to read? Just like an open book? No, you aren't. It took me a while before I was absolutely certain it was you, but then I was looking for all the evidence that would suggest so."

More questions are immediately raised in Oliver's mind rather than him feeling like he'd just gotten an answer. What did Slade mean by 'looking for all the evidence?' What evidence? What possible information could Slade have used to discern him as the Arrow? Whatever it was, he wanted to know about it, that way he could pull the rug over any potential loose ends he might have had lying around.

Pushing those concerns to the back of his mind, Oliver steels himself.

Now only if he could get over how distracting Slade's scent was at times…

"Alright, go."

"Starting off small are we? Hmm?"

Slade smirks, stroking a hand over the stubble on his face as if he was actually pondering what to ask Oliver.

"Just go," Oliver urges.

Slade had answered his question so easily, maybe because the Alpha hadn't given him a total explanation to his query, yet he still seemed to answer it calmly and collectively all the same.

Whereas Oliver was fretting inside.

"Why do you do it?"

"Hmm?" Oliver mumbles in between taking another drink of liquor.

"Why do you do it?" Slade reaffirms.

"Why do you run around every night with your bow and arrow? Once outright killing the criminals in this city but now just incapacitating them for the police to come get?"

At Slade's words, Oliver flinches slightly, hearing himself and 'killing' used in the same sentence together.

"What's it to you?" the Omega retorts, not seeing how this was relevant to their current situation.

"I'm curious… And besides, you can ask me whatever you want and I'll answer. So I should be able to expect the same from you."

Oliver releases a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine. He doesn't even remember it being this hard to tell Diggle and Felicity about his crusade, and they were on-board it with him.

Slade continues to have eyes on him.

Less Beta spray around his neck and collar seemed to be having the unsurprising though somewhat good yet mostly bad effect of meaning his sense of smell wasn't as impaired and clogged as it usually was. Most things smelt about the same, albeit stronger however he was far more acutely aware of the opposite dynamic's pheromones than usual.

He had absolutely no trouble picking up the Alpha scent, rich and overpowering wafting off of Slade—a more potent scent than those Oliver was used to picking up in the city. Maybe that suggested Slade wasn't from an urban part of Australia—was much of it even urban? Or more likely it hinted and tied into his masculine nature—something not all 'domestic' city Alphas quite had—, a certain predatory quality.

Apex Alpha, maybe?

It was more of a coined phrase than any scientific terminology—Oliver knew it wasn't uncommon for aristocrats to try and push it as such though—, a term used to describe Alphas that had no Betas in their family tree and still held to certain 'rudimentary values'. Allegedly, Alphas were the first ones to carry the 'Beta gene', and when that gene became active, Betas were born.

Or so Oliver was lead to believe by his father. Hence why guardians would often insist on pre-approving potential mates before they let them near their Omega offspring.

Oliver wondered if all the blame on Alphas for supposedly ruining their 'perfect race' was just Omegas shifting the responsibility onto the dynamic they once left mostly in charge. Trying to avoid taking potential blame on their parts as certainly many more people than just _some_ Alphas would have to carry the 'Beta gene' now?

Often people who had the money and assets to seek out the sometimes elusive Alpha-Omega courtships and the supposedly 'untainted' lines, found so much as proven carrying of the 'Beta gene' condemnable in their high society.

Possession of the gene wasn't really provable without backtracking up the immediate family tree to look for Betas or intervention on science's behalf, but Omegas were often thought to be able to smell the difference between a true Alpha—with generations of Alphas and Omegas behind it—and a 'quasi-Alpha'. Omegas had the best olfactory system of the dynamics, probably due to their inbuilt flight nature over fight, but Oliver rarely trusted his nose anyway so what would he know?

All he knew was that Slade had a very distinct smell, a smell like sandalwood and heavy musk that the Alpha obviously made no attempt to hide. A scent that reminded Oliver of the kind of Alphas his father would push as admissible suitors or potential mates he'd let near his son but Oliver fobbed off like that was never going to happen.

Oliver didn't know if he found that stray thought comforting or alarming, though the Omega would admit he wasn't going to let any suitor take him without a fight. It would at least be interesting to have an Alpha around that could try…

Shaking that thought from his head, Oliver tells himself to stop smelling Slade. Robert wasn't around anymore so he had little need to worry about his father's disapproval of who he would bend over or bend over for.

Oliver refrains from inhaling deeply, as doing so made him think about yielding in Slade's presence. If he was going to make a habit of backing off on the Beta spray, maybe he ought to start by doing it first _not_ around Slade…

"I told you back at Verdant—not today, but a couple weeks ago—that I had an oath," Oliver chooses to start with.

"Which for the most part was true. Before… Before my dad died, he told me he wasn't the man I thought he was, or even possibly the man anyone thought he was. He said… that he didn't help the city—our city—he failed it. He helped run it into the ground where it is today along with others.

He told me I had to survive, to right his wrongs, to save the city."

Slade is quiet the entire time listening to Oliver's explanation. He doesn't allow his face to show it but inside he's thinking of the moron Oliver's father is. Telling his son a thing like that, like the father's crusade should become the son's crusade like it was some sort of birthright to be inherited.

The Alpha doesn't say anything of that sort however, seeing from the way the Omega's eyes glazed over and he looked out the window at the lit-up city, the subject was a touchy one for him.

Yet Slade also notices somewhat of a discrepancy in Oliver's tale.

"Your father told you all of this before you were shipwrecked?"

If he did, he sounded like an even bigger dick than Slade would have originally thought.

Oliver meets Slade's gaze again for a moment, pupils seeming to focus again in his eyes.

"No. He said it all before he shot himself in the head on the lifeboat."

Slade immediately regrets asking the question at all.

Despite the fact that Oliver's half-assed explanation for doing what he does—going out playing hero every night—just seemed to come down to his dad screwing him up in the head right before he killed himself.

_Poor kid…_

"I'm sorry," Slade immediately apologizes.

There are no tears in Oliver's eyes but his voice was unbelievably more sombre than usual.

"It's okay," Oliver says, seeming less bothered by the situation than Slade was.

"I'm over it now. No time to grieve about it… I thought my father was a real right bastard to me at times, but… He killed himself so that I could live, with the intention that I would go on living. He sacrificed himself so that I could live. So I suppose he loved me, in his own way.

I couldn't squander that, I suppose. I couldn't not try and do what he hoped to do. Not after he gave his life for mine."

The Omega's elaboration still felt to Slade like he was getting partial cliff notes on the situation. Like there were certain things that just didn't add up to him. The change in the Vigilante's 'targets' between a year ago and now, Oliver no longer putting an arrow in those targets, among other things.

Slade didn't have the heart to continually push or ask the Omega for questions potentially related to his father's death though.

Oliver releases a heavy exhale, sagging forward in his chair.

"Forget I asked," the Alpha says.

Nodding, Oliver accepts Slade's apology despite not being overly concerned about it himself.

Their conversation didn't seem to be going the way either of them expected or intended it to go.

Mentally shaking of the last strands of his past, Oliver composes himself.

"Don't you back out on me now, old man," Oliver scolds, "I've still got things I want to ask you."

xxxxxxxx

After the first round of questioning, Slade and Oliver seemed to get over their initial awkwardness with one another. The Omega quickly recovering from bringing his father's death up and the two of them slipping into a routine of exchanging information, rather than feeling like they were interrogating each other.

Slade and Oliver started belting through their questions, as well as the rest of the wine bottle.

Oliver would ask a question, Slade would deliver.

Then Slade would ask a question and Oliver would answer.

Sometimes they were less questioning one another and more just confirming what they already knew.

"You've been in Starling City for a while, haven't you?"

"I have," the Alpha snickered.

"How long?"

"Longer than you know. Biding my time… I've been hanging about since before the start of last year, 2013."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Ah, ah," Slade would tut, "You've had your one question, now it's my turn."

Oliver had flopped back into his chair defeated; removing his hands off the table from where he'd gone to pull himself up.

Slade was a lot more selective with his questions, albeit Oliver not always seeing why they were relevant or why Slade cared to know the answers to them. It seemed like while Oliver's questions were serious, Slade's questions were trivial prying for information at best.

"Oi, so what ever happened with you and that girl in the picture you looked at so much? The Beta's sister?"

_Laurel._

"It didn't work out," Oliver would respond, "She hates my guts. Probably because I got her sister killed."

Probably also because after coming back from the island, he got her boyfriend at the time to sleep with him, causing things to become complicated between them despite her not knowing that part of his involvement in the situation. And then… said Alpha—Tommy—was killed in the Undertaking.

Heartbreak all around.

The two of them continued on that way for a while—just talking.

"What's with this building you live in? Do you actually live here? I don't think this is the same room as last time?"

"You're correct in thinking that, this isn't the same room I brought you too last time to put your ass in its place. But yeah, I needed the space around here."

"Needed the space? It doesn't look like you use much of it?"

"Not that you see."

"Okay, you go."

Of course, not all of their conversation had been intended to be completely serious. Had it? If it had, that premise was forgotten in the presence of good times and maybe a little bit of alcohol.

Some of their questions seemed to turn slightly random, sometimes not even able to be considered questions at all. Things that albeit strange, seemed perfectly fine to share with one another. They had spent months living together on a mostly deserted, hostile island after all.

Oliver lost his virginity at sixteen to a Beta girl, which turned out to be a very uncoordinated experience. Slade seemed to be impressed Oliver had managed to remain chaste for that long.

Slade, on the other hand, had allegedly had sex with nearly just as many Alphas as he had Omegas. A probable side-effect of there being so many Alphas in the armed forces. Oliver jokingly asked if Slade had been the receptive partner in any of those situations there.

After a short time of mostly mindlessly questioning one another, sort of re-evaluating where they both stood—on good terms with one another—, the almost empty wine bottle and glasses put to the side, Slade didn't have a question to ask when Oliver offered the opportunity to ask one over to him.

So far, it didn't even seem like they'd actually managed to learn that much about each other—or rather from each other—and in spite of that, Slade didn't actually feel like he really had anything else to ask Oliver.

He felt like he'd almost just been improvising from the start, Oliver certainly the one who had all the burning questions on his mind. Yet the Omega hadn't seemed to have asked him many of those questions Slade logically thought Oliver would either?

"Hey," Slade says, "are you… going to ask me at all what I'm doing in the city? What I'm doing here at all?"

Slade didn't know why he felt the need to bring it up, almost confused that the Omega himself hadn't mentioned it at all.

"I don't feel I need to. At least not right now," Oliver exhales, sounding genuine.

"Why not?"

Oliver bites his lip for a moment, something akin to worry etching into his face.

"Because I know I'm not going to like the full-blown explanation any more than I don't like what I already know."

A sliver of guilt stabs Slade in the chest at Oliver's words, but no doubt he deserved it.

"Well," Slade says, checking to make sure his voice is steady before going on.

"Why don't you tell me what you know, or rather suspect, and we'll go from there?"

Although Oliver had been drinking and his mind might have been mildly incapacitated from it all, the Omega's words come out crystal clear and sentient.

"You're in charge of the man in the skull mask, Cyrus Gold. Everything related to the Mirakuru reproduction here in Starling City, all the people that have died… You allowed it to happen. Possibly more too, other things I don't know of."

The Omega doesn't meet Slade's gaze as he speaks, and the Alpha feels horrible inside.

He just wants to apologize, for everything, beg for forgiveness from the Omega. But he knows he can't do that. He made the bed he know lay in—more like the grave—and he had to pull himself out of it.

Slade may manage to keep his face straight and his body from going completely tharn yet inside he felt like hell.

"I'm not particularly proud of any of those things," Slade says, not denying any of what Oliver's just said.

He doesn't know if it's a look of disbelief or relief that crosses Oliver's face as the younger man closes his eyes momentarily. Disbelief because he could have actually done those things, or relief because at least Slade wasn't trying to deny it?

Slade doesn't get a chance to read too much into Oliver's facial expression as when the Omega refocuses on him it's with boring icy eyes.

"But why? Why would you do any of those things? I get it you hated me; maybe you still should hate me. I stabbed you, I ruined you, I fucked you up in the head, but does that really justify you doing all those things? Was it really that bad? If it was really so bad that it meant you had to do all of this, just to get back at me, just to teach me a lesson…"

Oliver pauses for a moment before his voice escalates into a shout.

"Why don't you still hate me now—"

"—Because it has nothing to do with you!"

Slade's palm comes down on the table between them, silencing both of their shouts. The wood doesn't splinter or crack beneath his hand but the noise it produces is loud over the two of them quickly falling quiet.

The Alpha looks at Oliver almost as shocked as the Omega looks back at him.

He shouldn't have done that… He. Should. Not. Have. Done. That.

Slade had no right to be angry at Oliver and the Omega cringing like a deer caught in a car's headlights in front of him reminds him of that. Underneath all that armour Oliver had created and all the suffering he must have endured, there was still a traumatised kid who got shipwrecked on an island there.

The Alpha removes his hand from the table and deflates back onto his chair.

Oliver looks at him with an expression midway between disgust and defiance. Or maybe Slade was just imaging that?

"I'm sorry," Slade says again.

If he got angry, he'd possibly lose it. Slade knew that. He had a short-fuse temper to begin, something that could easily get the better of him. But mixed in with the Mirakuru inside of him is where things got out of control.

Calm, calm… Gotta stay calm.

Slade waits for Oliver to say something, that he deserves to go die in a hole even, but the Omega says nothing. Just looks at him with his head titled to one side and a blank mask up on his face.

Slade doesn't really want to have to explain _this_ to Oliver, something he was both ashamed and frightened of—a rare thing for him—but he forces himself to do it anyway.

"I should probably thank you."

Their eyes still following one another, Oliver makes a noise barely above a whisper. Slade picks it up though, and it sounds like a 'hmm'.

"Your reluctance to outright kill me and stubbornness to not go along with what I blindly believed, pulled me back. We wouldn't be here, sitting here today if it wasn't for you. I might not even be here at all."

Oliver surprisingly seems to be listening to his words and taking them in, though the Omega's facial expression remains mostly vacant.

"I don't get it… What do you mean? You told me just a few weeks ago you hated me for stabbing you in the face. And I-I… I wasn't… I didn't want to have to kill you."

Voice cracking in the middle, Oliver swipes a face over his mouth as if to steady his vocal cords.

He could have… he would have done it. Oliver possibly would have killed Slade had the Alpha continually forces his hand. If it was between Slade's demise and the continued lives of innocents in the city—his friends, his family. There was… There was no choice to make. Or at least that's what he told Felicity after he put three arrows in the Count for holding his friend hostage.

Killing dulled the soul, that much was for sure, ripped it asunder as taking other's lives would surely only take yours in the end. When there was no alternative to killing though… the lives of many outweighed the life of one. At least… supposedly it did.

But what kind of cruel choice was it to have to choose between the lives of your friends?

Oliver shakes himself from his thoughts, almost… relieved that it hadn't come down to that. That Slade was still reasonable and not a rabid dog that needed to be put down.

"What I told you was… partially true," Slade murmurs.

A white lie then, Oliver deduces.

"Then what's the rest of the truth?"

Slade sits up, leaning over on the table closer to Oliver.

"I see things…"

xxxxxxxx

_I gave the demon my heart and it took my soul._


	4. Revelations III

**Author Notes: **This chapter has a few notes at the end for those of you who read them.

The internal monologue/quote-things I've been dropping at the end of every _Revelations_ chapter also finish with this one. I think it should be pretty understandable whose they are…

I also found I listened to a lot of_ Take Me To Church_ by _Hozier_ writing the _Revelations _three-parter, particularly this part. Possibly give it a listen for something atmospheric related to the chapter, if you're into that.

xxxxxxxx

**Chapter 4: Revelations III**

"_I see things…"_

Oliver doesn't feel at all shocked by the revelation. In fact, it seemed like something Slade had alluded to in their past conversations but had never actually been able to come out and say straight.

"Like what?" Oliver asks, hopefully as politely as possible.

He was questioning the Alpha's sanity after all. He felt the need to ask for… specifics though.

"Just… just shit."

"Didn't we agree on elaboration?"

Oliver keeps his voice stern though not imposing. There was room for Slade to say no to him. Tell him to screw off.

"Question time's over, kid. But… I think it's at its most concise the less I elaborate. It doesn't make a lot of sense, even to me. Now that I think about it…"

"It doesn't have to make sense," Oliver says, shaking his head, "But the less you explain, the less I have to believe. I don't need to know about the things you've done, if you don't want to tell me or aren't ready to tell me, you don't have to. I don't need to know. But you at least have to tell me why. How am I supposed to believe anything you say without an explanation to it all?"

His words must cut like a knife, but if Slade is hurt, he doesn't show it.

"Alright," Slade responds, face lax and loose.

"But don't say anything until I'm done."

Oliver nods in agreement, not thinking to question as to why Slade wanted him silent.

Slade sucks in a deep breath of air before he starts talking.

"For what felt like the longest time on the island, I thought you were dead. I thought I'd killed you... I woke up covered in blood, your scent and ripping part of my eye out. I think my horror at the time was justified. There was no proof I'd killed you, no body and I was sure none of the blood on my hands was yours. But, I felt it. I felt like you were dead.

I thought I must have lost control or something—and I did—, gravely wounding you, then you must have stabbed me in the head and limped off to die. You weren't around… I'd just killed a bunch of people in your name with the intention that would be saving you and keeping you alive. But then I must have killed you too. You were completely justified in hurting me at the time, considering what I'd done. I didn't hate you back then, I hated myself."

Oliver tries to keep his face straight in between Slade's explanation but accidently lets out a wince. The Alpha doesn't seem to notice however, lost in his own thoughts staring off at a spot behind Oliver's shoulder.

"I-I couldn't… I couldn't live with myself. I fled all the way to the other side of the island until I hit the shore. I didn't want to find your body; I didn't want to have to bury you, not like Shado or Yao Fei. In that moment, I just didn't want to know about anything. And I dunno how long I stayed that way for. Just carrying on existing, but not really living. I was stuck in limbo. Eat, sleep, repeat."

There wasn't much of it in the Alpha's story, yet Oliver could tell very clearly from the tone of Slade's voice that he was destroyed by losing _him_. Destroyed by essentially becoming alone in his the world.

"My eye came back after a time, probably not even after a couple days or so. Full vision took a little longer to come back to it but I'd grown accustomed to covering it up. Not just 'cause it was… unsightly and a hindrance in the beginning. But I felt like… without not having that eye—even if in the end I was just pretending it wasn't there—I didn't have any proof you ever existed. I had no proof you were ever there.

And after maybe like a month or so, I finally worked up the guts to go looking for you again. Well y'know, whatever was left of you. And I-I… I found you."

Slade's breath hitches like he's just been wounded, Oliver immediately dismaying as to what exactly Slade found. A body left unpreserved—a corpse—for more than several days would be well and truly starting to rot.

The Alpha brushes both hands over his face, pulling the skin down with his fingers but not hard enough to puncture anything.

"Oh… you looked the same as always. I found you on the other side of the beaches. You were just there, standing there, staring out into the horizon… I almost thought you were a dream. And then you turned around and smiled. That big dumb, stupid smile of yours. You walked right over to me like you'd never left. No blood, no corpse, no nothing—you were just the same as always. You walked and talked the same way, stupid kid. We went back to the fuselage, and things seemed to lapse back into normality."

A sad smile graces Slade's face. Oliver's body goes completely rigid.

The Omega didn't want to know how this story ended, because he already knew. He and Slade had never met again after what happened on Ivo's freighter until the Alpha was here in Starling City.

Whatever Slade saw, was surely _not him_. It was worse too, as what Slade found wasn't even a dead body or something that possibly could be passed off as _him_. It was worse.

"Some things were off, you never quite… smelt right. Sometimes you smiled too often, other times not enough, but it never reached your eyes. You were a blank slate whenever it came to Shado or Yao Fei, the fact that they'd died. It was like you had no idea who they were. Not even the mention of the Beta girl got you going.

There was something… there was always something wrong with you. For a while, I didn't care. We were damaged and I was just content to go on living, knowing and having you around alive. Things didn't stay that way for long though. Maybe a couple days, maybe more, maybe less. I went to ask you eventually, what happened on Ivo's freighter. I gave you space; I gave you the time to come to me yourself. But eventually I asked you what happened, why you left me, why you stabbed me in the face…

You told me I killed you and that I had to die now too. You were going to kill me."

From the corner of his eye, Slade sees Oliver go to stand up.

The Omega gets to his feet, opening his mouth to say something but Slade holds a hand up to silence him.

"Don't. Don't you dare say anything yet. You need to hear the rest of it."

Slade avoids looking at Oliver as the Omega returns to sitting. He wasn't sure he could look at Oliver, see the no doubt shock and horror on his face, and still be able to continue speaking.

It was bad enough as it is, he could still hear the ghost's voice in his head.

_Please, don't hurt me._

The way it spoke in a voice that was entirely Oliver's but entirely not.

_Don't do this, Slade…_

And then its facial expression would twist, teeth like daggers coming out from its face, eyes as dark and deep as the sea—

—And it would attack. It would come for _him_…

"I probably shouldn't call _it_ _you_," Slade re-begins, "Especially not to your face."

"It's not you. It never was. It's just… it's just a fucking IT. Even now I have trouble separating the two of you, considering the two of you separate entities.

I should have known though… I should have known better. I should have known when you… _it_ went to shove a shiv between my ribcage, it wasn't _you_. You never had the balls to do anything like that. I know it's not supposed to be real but it scared the shit out of me.

It jumped on top of me and… I-I… I got rid of it. I got rid of it for a time. It went away and it disappeared. I hated having to try and kill something that wore your face. But of course, it came back."

Oliver sees Slade's whole body visibly shake. His eyes closed and his whole frame racked like he was severely ill, obviously remembering what had happening. There was no strength in his face; none of the Alpha Oliver knew that would beat the shit out of him every day just to teach him how to survive. The Alpha that protected him day-in-day-out on the island despite the fact that he could very much be a hindrance at times.

A large part of Oliver screams at him to do something. Like an Omegan part of his nature kicking in and telling him to go over and comfort the Alpha. _His Alpha_.

Slade was haunted by a ghost of him and Oliver wanted to touch and assure the Alpha he'd never do something like that. It wasn't the real him. Not him. It was never him.

Oliver would never want to intentionally hurt him.

Oliver had to be sensible about this though. If he touched Slade out of the blue he might lash out and the both of them would potentially get hurt. From personal experience, he knew that when people were in anxious or highly emotional states, they couldn't always immediately distinguish friend from foe and would attack regardless of having that knowledge.

The first night coming back from the island, sleeping in his own house albeit on the floor, he'd put his mother on the floor for so much as touching him in his sleep.

Being put in physical pain didn't matter to Oliver at the moment though.

_I can't let him do this… not for me._

He didn't want to hear it or see it, Slade appearing to be visibly suffering just to tell him something. That albeit the former could explain some things, bring some clarity to why Slade was driven to do the things he did, driven to want to ruin Oliver's life… Destroy _the other…_ It didn't warrant the current distress Slade seemed to have put himself in.

Oliver moved slowly, not sure what he was going to do, but making sure he was quiet about it all the same. Slade seemingly remaining fixated on speaking but also not looking at him, like he'd entered some sort of trance.

"_It_ never stayed for as long a period of time as it initially did. Always either in the corner of my left sight or at a far enough distance away that although it may not have seemed readily threatening, it was still visible and definitely there. It just followed me… seemingly manifesting in and out of sight. Sometimes I might have thought it was there, been anxious about it, but it never was really fucking there, now was it?

It drove me over the edge eventually, trying to get away from it, trying to get some respite. I had to get off the island, or at least try even if it damn killed me. There was no way I was getting rescued; bastards at ASIS had probably given up on me and Wintergreen years ago. So I backtracked to the south side of the island and swan out to sea."

Slade could taste the saltwater in the back of his throat just thinking about it. The images in his mind were still so vivid, as if they had happened yesterday as opposed to five years ago. Just like the revenant of Oliver was, an incredibly vivid hallucination. Memories of the past and things that surely didn't exist seeming almost more lifelike to the Alpha than the present was.

If he kept his eyes closed, he could almost forget Oliver was watching him.

Talking to Oliver when the Omega wasn't really there seemed to have become a speciality of Slade's now. The real Oliver's silence was far less accusatory than the dead-eyed doll version of him was though.

Or at least, Slade hoped this was the real Oliver he was talking to now. Not the imposter lying in wait in the dark, sharpening his knife waiting for Slade to look at him. _If I can't see you, you can't see me_ never seemed to work for Slade.

Slade swallows hard, feeling how dry his mouth was, like he'd been drinking seawater.

"It was a horrendous experience. I didn't even know if I was heading out south but geographically that was the way I had originally come from and I had hoped swimming out in any direction for long enough I'd get somewhere. Probably a recipe for suicide. I stripped off everything, left even my custom-made swords behind because I had no idea how long I'd be in the water for and couldn't afford to be weighed down in the least.

Lian Yu's in the East China Sea, I can tell you now there's bugger all out there. No crocodiles, but plenty of sharks. I tried to follow the direction of the sun to determine the true north. Back home, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, though I don't know if the same applies out there.

It didn't matter though, the sea was strong; waves pushing me left to right constantly, the rip current dragged me under. At times I thought I was going to die. I fled the island to get away from IT only to end up doggy paddling for my life. I drowned and the ocean carried me wherever it pleased. I don't think I swam straight for more than an hour at a time. The rocks on the reef and the sea floor cut my flesh up to the bone; I bled like a stuck pig. Jellyfish stung me and I went into hypothermia.

But I survived, and after two sunsets at sea I washed up onto a peninsula of Okinawa."

Slade didn't want Oliver's pity, didn't want the Omega to know his suffering indeed felt like hell, yet he had to be concise all the same. Not owning up to the details now would only be digging himself a deeper grave for later.

Breathing in sharply, Slade notices Oliver's sweet vanilla scent beneath its sterile chemicals smelt stronger than usual. Closer.

Slade's eyes snap open and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end the moment he feels he'd been touched. The touch is just above his knee and Slade slams his spine as far back into his chair as it will go.

Shit, shit, was it touching him? Was it on him? Slade couldn't really touch or hurt it, even with all his enhanced strength but the ghost would most certainly hurt him.

"Hey, hey. It's just me," Oliver's voice coos as the Omega comes into view, kneeling down in front of him.

_That's_ what it would say though. That's exactly something that wasn't Oliver would say.

Slade shakes, he's immediately worried about what it's going to do to him or going to say. What'd it do with the real Oliver? Where'd Oliver go? Was the Omega ever really here or was he just conversing with the reverent the entire time?

Was he truly and utterly mad? Was he asleep right now, maybe this was all just a bad dream? A dream would certainly be better than reality.

It was so hard to want to wrap his hands around the long, beautiful neck of something that looked just like Oliver. That neck he'd rather be biting and kissing, leaving blue bruises down the throat of to tell the real Omega he cared and send the message to all other Alphas that they could screw off.

The Alpha's breathing hitches as Oliver offers him a sad, slight smile.

God no, no, no. IT had changed. It looked different now. The ghost had always taken the shape of the last time he 'saw' Oliver. Back on the island, all shaggy hair and scraggly beard—that's what it was supposed to look like. How dare it look like Oliver did now! Hair all shorn off and scars peeking out from the collar of Oliver's black dress shirt.

Slade growls, deep and rumbling in the back of his throat and chest.

How fucking dare it come and tarnish every single memory—be them real or not—he had of the 'real Oliver'!

Ire and anger boiled inside of him.

Lunging forward, Slade coils one hand around the demon's neck as he pushes it to the floor, the other hand slamming the top of the table out of the way so he could get the reverent perfectly on the ground.

The table hits the lounge suite, falling over on itself as the demon's back hits the ground beneath Slade throwing himself on top of it. IT had a habit of disappearing like smoke on the wind as soon as Slade went to harm it, but not this time.

The demon makes an injured sound as it hit the carpet, its head not quite slamming the ground behind it.

It could be quite the actor, a siren call's he had been too naïve to resist in the beginning as it looked oh so much like Oliver. The moment it opened its mouth, verbal poison would flow out. Not this time though. It was the devil. Slade couldn't show any mercy, it certainly wouldn't towards him.

Slade kept the one hand on its throat, elbow pinning its left arm at the tricep to the floor as his other hand drug into its right wrist. He'd managed to land them in a position so that he was sitting right on top of it, right on its stomach so it wouldn't be able to move any of its limbs.

As it trembled beneath him, Slade snarled at it, lowering himself above its face.

It was so beautiful, just like Oliver—but it was an imposter! It didn't deserve to look anything like _him_!

"If hurting me will make you feel better—"

It goes to speak, looking straight into Slade's fiery eyes but the Alpha silences it with a roar of his own.

"It won't! It won't make me feel better! Don't taunt me either. Don't act all sweet and innocent like him, 'cause you're not _him_! The only thing that would make me feel better right now is if would go the fuck away and never come back!"

Oliver's heart thumped like a drum in his chest.

He couldn't move very much apart from his head, legs trapped beneath Slade's weight and feeling like pins and needles were starting to attack them as well. His arms were a little less confined however Oliver didn't think trying to test the strength of Slade's makeshift restraints on him at the moment would be wise.

He had to refrain from further agitating the Alpha yet he had no idea as to how not to do that. He didn't know what to do anymore; he didn't know what to say either. The second he touched Slade the Alpha froze and the moment he started speaking the Alpha went wild and tackled him to the floor. Not that he could blame Slade or hold it against him based on what the Omega had heard, but obviously his attempt to comfort Slade had backfired. Badly.

Slade stared at him with fury in his eyes Oliver didn't think he'd ever seen before. His eyes were so dark, accusatory and condemning.

Oliver knew this hatred wasn't aimed at him—possibly never at him—but he still felt bad all the same.

With Slade's thumb still pressed over his throat, Oliver swallows, trying to find his voice.

"I'm sorry," Oliver starts.

"No, you're not. You liar," Slade retorts, baring his teeth like fangs.

The Alpha tightened his grip around Oliver's wrist and the Omega had to supress a cry of pain from coming out of him. Slade's nails were blunt, digging into his skin more painfully than sharp ones would. It's not enough to draw blood though, not that Oliver could see or feel.

He'd had worse. Oliver had endured worse though. Just usually not from his friends…

"But I am," Oliver says, waiting for further pain to explode in his body.

It doesn't. Slade simply staying on top of him, still as a statue.

"I-I could have been there. Maybe I could have stopped this from happening."

"Your presence stopped nothing from happening! Your presence only made everything worse," Slade spits.

Slade's words stung Oliver yet he knew the Alpha felt like he wasn't looking at the 'real him' right now.

Maybe he had to play along with that? Stop trying to convince Slade he was 'himself' and start trying to convince Slade he wasn't 'IT'. He had to trust in Slade's sentience to be able to separate him from a reverent of himself though.

"No, my presence didn't do any of that. It… It was my absence that did. I wasn't there for you when you needed me… I left you."

Trying to pick his neck up to better meet the Alpha's gaze, Oliver is halted by Slade's hand on his throat moving up to around his chin. The Alpha's thumb and index finger pressed in on both sides of his jaw as Slade forced their eyes to lock.

"The only thing I gained in your absences was respite!" Slade snapped.

"And now! Why do you come back now? Suddenly want to have a discussion all of a sudden, you wretched thing!"

A feeble part inside of Oliver quaked with fear.

If he couldn't get through to Slade, there was a legitimate chance the Alpha might hurt him. The fingers in his jaw already threatened that much but he had no idea how long Slade's patience would last for before the Alpha went to straight out belt him.

Slade's eyes burned with unquenched fury and Oliver was aware he'd probably have to go for a gamble here. Rational discussion didn't seem to be getting through to the Alpha.

The last thing he wanted to do was call Slade crazy either, because Oliver too knew all to well what it was like to be haunted by one's own ghosts.

Was Oliver himself even thinking reasonably right now? How much wine had he had to drink? He had better hope it wasn't too much however; otherwise this really would be a stupid idea.

Oliver swallows, realizing how close their faces were together. Had Slade not been looking at him like a bull ready to ram down a matador, Oliver might have almost thought it intimate.

"Is our Bond not stronger than the ghosts that plague you?"

Oliver is almost certain he's about to made to eat his words but Slade remains staring at him. A look of confusion—was it?—seemed to cross his face and the Alpha shifted his head slightly as if he was looking at him on a strange angle. The fingers around his jaw seemed to loosen as well.

As Oliver's left arm was now free, he quickly jolts forward, snaking his arm up across the slope of the Alpha's neck. It must catch the Alpha by surprise as Slade bends to his grasp and with one swift motion Oliver surges his mouth onto Slade's own.

He can't quite get up off the floor with the Alpha still on top of him, but pulling Slade down onto him helped make up the difference.

Oliver starts slow, pressing light-hearted pecks to Slade's lips. He does so quickly, several times in a single moment, but not without being concise. There's no demand in the motion, nothing that would hopefully spook the Alpha away, but when Slade leans forward into his next kiss, he can tell there's fear.

There's fear in their kisses. There's the fear of being lost, losing one another.

Slade didn't have as much facial hair on his chin this time around, so there was less almost-scraping and pricking of stubble against one another's faces and more raw emotion in their kisses.

The Alpha retracts his hand from out between them, releasing Oliver's chin. The other comes away from the Omega's wrist as well as Slade shifts his weight off Oliver's lower body, still holding their closed-mouth kiss.

They linger on that kiss for the longest, Slade repositioning his body so that he's no longer putting pressure on the man beneath him and Oliver forces Slade to keep his head down towards him at the neck. For Slade to pull back, he'd have to do so forcefully but the Alpha instead settles his hands over the hem of Oliver's shirt. Attentively and without any force to the motion.

Oliver didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes, opening them as the Alpha touches his toned stomach. He makes an exasperated sound, not quite a 'yes' or a 'no' as their lips break apart.

Oliver immediately notices the difference in Slade's eyes. The fire was gone—the madness—replaced by something colder. Not sure of Slade's thought process, Oliver refrains from sudden moments, leaving his hand stroking the collar of the Alpha's shirt.

He couldn't help licking his lips though.

The Alpha tasted the way he smelt, like something dark and strong—divine.

Oliver huffs, not denying Slade further 'things'.

Slade pulls Oliver into a closer grasp from his sitting position, half-heaving the Omega up as Oliver flops onto him with little grace. Oliver's hand falls away from Slade's neck as he lands awkwardly pressed again the Alpha's chest but both of Slade's arms snake around him.

Holding back a sound of shock, Oliver is further perplexed as Slade pulls him into a hug. One of the Alpha's arms went around his side and the other across his shoulders.

Oliver's legs were bent at the knees, half-sitting between Slade's legs but with the arm he had not trapped by Slade, he went to pat the Alpha's back. Comforting him in the way he probably would have, had Slade initially not put him on the floor.

Slade makes a choked, sobbing sound and there's no hiding it despite how quiet it was, how much the Alpha may have tried to conceal it, their heads sat in the crook of each other's neck.

Going to pull back out of Slade's embrace, the Alpha's grasp remains almost bone-crushingly tight around Oliver.

"I'm sorry, kid," Slade says, voice solemn.

"It's okay. I'm fine," Oliver assures, stretching his fingers out as far as possible to rub the Alpha's back.

Which turned out to not be very far at all, Oliver's fingertips lingering over the small of Slade's back. It wasn't a very ceremonious position nor one that allowed Oliver a lot of movement but he tried to comfort the Alpha the best he could all the same.

"No…"

Slade makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. The sound dies quickly.

Slade still wasn't allowing him to pull away from him but Oliver could feel the wetness on his cheek, below his ears. The tears certainly weren't his either and Oliver's heart sunk in his chest.

"Shh, it's okay we don't have to talk about it," Oliver tries to sooth.

He never was very good at comforting people, not even Laurel when they were going out. It was especially hard to comfort another male however, as Oliver knew damn well they weren't always very open about their feelings.

He hoped he was doing the right thing by Slade though.

"But… I still haven't…"

Slade goes to say something but there's no strength left in his voice to finish.

Oliver could feel Slade's whole body sagging onto him. Like the Alpha's whole world was falling apart and he just couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't care about that right now," Oliver says adamantly but softly.

Whatever Slade thought he needed to say, could wait. Especially if it was pertaining to Slade's tale of what happened in those years they were apart from one another.

Slade wasn't going to be allowed to talk about his ghost either. The real Oliver would keep it at bay. Like he should have done in the beginning, been there for Slade, not just presumed the Alpha was dead. Because like himself too, the Alpha was out there in the world, suffering on his own.

Oliver makes a squeak-like sound of shock as Slade tightens his arms around him, an iron prison. It was almost painful, his chest pressing against the Alpha's own from the pressure across his back. He could feel Slade's heartbeat, fast and erratic like he'd just run a marathon and his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest.

"You should," Slade says low, voice full of self-loathing.

"I could have just killed you right now. And I might not have known any better until _you were dead_."

Slade's voice comes out harsh, like it was grating against his throat. The spasms that shook Slade's body every several seconds were painstakingly obvious to Oliver but the Omega also knew the Alpha didn't want to be seen as weak. Vulnerable.

The position he was holding Oliver in didn't allow him to twist his neck around to look at the Alpha, head kept above one of Slade's tense shoulders. But Oliver knew that even if he could turn around, he wouldn't.

He'd give Slade the privacy he no doubt desired, though Oliver didn't feel comfortable entirely leaving him alone at the moment either.

"But you didn't," Oliver tries to sooth, brushing his hand over Slade's back.

"But I could have!"

Oliver swallows around a lump in his throat. He couldn't disagree with the Alpha's logic there but he also didn't want to agree with it. The solution obviously wasn't for Slade to go on suffering, enduring this hell on his own. Trying and failing to ward off his own ghosts that obviously haunted and traumatised him.

"But do you… Do you think pushing me away will make either of us feel better?"

The Omega was clearly pushing Slade here. Pushing Slade and himself beyond the usual limits of where their conversations would go. Prying for feelings it seemed neither of them knew how to properly interpret or talk to one another about. Right now, Oliver felt those emotions as well—the same confusion—but he didn't want to walk away from them. He didn't want to ignore them anymore.

It was strange and frightening, whatever they felt for each other, but it was also wonderful all the same. Emotional…

He didn't want Slade to slap those feelings of his in the face either. As there was always the chance that they were one-sided and Slade did not share them with him.

But he was prepared to get hurt. He was prepared to endure some suffering on Slade's behalf if it meant the Alpha no longer had to suffer in silence.

Being a male was _hard_… more so as an Omega. Being expected to be strong all the time was hard, it was impossible.

"'Don't want your fuckin' pity," Slade spits, but there's an audible seize in his voice.

Slade sounded like a very quite crier but Oliver had a feeling that the Alpha was also trying hard to hold back the dam of tears as well.

"It's not pity," Oliver says sternly, shaking his head against the Alpha's neck.

"It's empathy. I don't know exactly what you've gone through or what you're going through right now, but I can relate to it."

Slade doesn't immediately respond, instead makes a noise Oliver doesn't know how to decipher. Was that a sound of pain?

The Omega quickly is aware of the wriggle room Slade has given him in his arms though, relaxing his arms around Oliver into a comfortable embrace. Still not anything Oliver could really entangle himself from though.

Not that Oliver wanted to, for either of their sakes.

"You shouldn't be made to pay for my madness, kid."

From Slade's voice it sounded like he was admitted defeat.

"No. But I could be made to pay for my negligence though. I could have gone back for you. But like you, I didn't want to find a body."

Oliver's breathing hitches just thinking about it. How he'd left his friend for 'dead' because he couldn't bear to face the truth of what he'd done. But now he was being made to.

He and Slade were both atoning for their 'sins', in one way or another.

Slade's entire body seems to loosen at the Omega's words. Even though that meant Oliver was practically half-supporting them now to keep from falling over.

Yet Oliver took that as a good sign, continuing to stroke the Alpha's back with his one free hand.

He'd finally got through to Slade.

"You can tell me… the rest of it later, if you want to. I'm not going anywhere."

_Never again._

Oliver didn't want to have to leave anyone behind ever again.

"I'll call Diggle and Felicity; tell them I'm staying with you tonight. I can make something up."

Slade doesn't seem to protest as Oliver continues half-holding him for a while.

xxxxxxxx

_But what if it was already gone, given to someone else to hold?_

xxxxxxxx

**Author Notes:** Poor Ollie or Poor Slade?

It feels kind of strange to have Author Notes to the end of a chapter like this, but I felt like there were a few things covered in the chapter I wanted to semi-elaborate on.

Firstly, I know Lian Yu is in the North China Sea in canon but there is no North China Sea! There's an East and a South Sea, but no North. Fiction takes liberties creating entire cities in finite spares (ie. Starling City) but I can't justify the creation of an entire sea here. Northwest of the East China Sea would be in China. North and East are closer on a compass so I moved Lian Yu to the East China Sea. This ties in with my second point.

The rest of Slade's backstory (I) still hasn't been elaborated on yet, but I never liked Slade supposedly 'swimming' off the island. I did some world record research though and open-water, unassisted swims of upwards of 100 kilometres and 40 hours have been achieved. We can't really get a gauge of how far Slade swam to get off a fictional island to a real one (Okinawa) but seeing those world records made it a bit more believable for me to write.


End file.
